They were both virgins on this, their wedding night. Edward was mesmerised by the prospect of inserting his member inside her moist cavity. Florence loved Edward with a passion but had no desire to be penetrated. She had read the references to engorged penis in the modern bride's handbook and felt nothing but dread.

Edward had prepared by refraining from self-pleasuring for a week and when she suggested lying on the bed he felt all those unimportant details, such as Harold Macmillan, that had only been included to provide a veneer of context, race from his mind.

Florence reminded herself how much she loved him as Edward's tongue greedily explored her larynx.

He tugged clumsily at her zip. She froze and broke away. "I'm a little scared," she said.

Edward restrained his annoyance. She remembered the manual and tried to guide him in. His back arched in muscular spasms as he emptied himself, coating her belly, chin and knee in tepid, viscous fluid. She ran from the room, heading outdoors to the Chesil beach.

He found her two miles along the deserted shingle. "You are disgusting," she said.

"You are frigid," he replied, icily.

"Maybe we could remain in a sexless marriage," she mouthed.

"It's over," he gasped.

"Don't you think we're being melodramatic and that even in 1962 a couple might get over a crap shag on their wedding night?" she cried.

"Of course, but if we don't split up, the whole book's pointless."

The digested read, digested: One messy outburst and it's all over.

The Reluctant Fundamentalist - Mohsin Hamid

"I was a modern day janissary," Changez observed to his reluctant American listener. "I had a great job on Wall Street and a beautiful American girlfriend. But when the twin towers collapsed, I found myself questioning my identity. Everywhere I walked, people regarded me with suspicion. "So where did I belong? The US or Pakistan?"

As afternoon turned to dusk in Lahore, the American became increasingly disturbed. Was this stranger a terrorist after all? "Allow me to subvert your expectations," Changez smiled. "It is not me who is the fundamentalist. It is the Americans."

The Gathering - Anne Enright

Anger dripped from her every pore. Just like the water had dripped from Liam's body after they had pulled him out the water.

"Sure he drank a lot," Veronica rasped at her mother, "but you expect that in an Irish novel. It was the sexual abuse he suffered as a child that killed him."

"But that's par for the course in an Irish novel these days too," her mother sneered. "You understand nothing about shame, repression and taboo," she shouted back, before noticing her husband lying in bed. "And you can get your sorry, decaying purple tumescence out of here too."

Animal's People - Indra Sinha

I used to be human once. Now, people call me Animal. My spine melted in the chemical leak and I have to walk on all fours. I hate the people around me and I hate the American Kompani that did this to me. These days I hang around with crazy people on the streets of Khaufpur and have colourful magical realist asides; but really, I just want to have sex. People tell me that the American woman who claims to want to help me is just another imperialist symbol. But I'm not so sure. As I drift in and out of fantastical scenes, nothing is as it seems. Maybe I am human after all.

Darkmans - Nicola Barker

Beede sat in the cafe. "Ashford," he thought. "Where else would you find characters called Kane, Peta Borough and a German character called Dory, who turns out to be not really German, doing next to nothing for 838 pages?"

"Aha," said Scogin. "I am Edward IV's court jester." "Course you are mate," Deede replied. "What are you doing here? "I haven't a clue," Scoggin laughed. "But then there's always one book on the shortlist that no one understands, so I guess we're it."

Mister Pip - Lloyd Jones

"Who will stay on in Bougainville to help us?" Matilda wondered, now that her father had gone to Australia. "I will," said Mr Watts, the only white man left on the Papua New Guinean island. "And I will read you Great Expectations."

"Oh thank you," Matilda smiled. "It will be lovely to be told an allegory to distract us from the threat of civil war. For Pip's journey is our journey."